


An Open Door

by SchneiderAlvarez



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I guess? mostly comfort i promise, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 21:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18185948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchneiderAlvarez/pseuds/SchneiderAlvarez
Summary: On his first day out of his fourth time in rehab, Schneider spends the day with the Riera's from apartment 402 after Lydia Riera comes to visit him at the clinic. It's the beginning of a long, adorable friendship.





	An Open Door

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore the relationship between Lydia and Schneider, especially in the first season. You can really see that the two of them had been close for a while before Pen and the kids even moved back in. This is going to be two parts - both taking place over the same day. First from Schneider perspective, then from Lydia's.
> 
> Also, as a note, I do not speak Spanish, so any Spanish you see is courtesy of Google Translate and the one year of Spanish I took in college. If anything's super wrong, please let me know!

To the unknowing eye, Schneider would have looked like a man just barely managing to hover over rock bottom. His normally tall figure was practically folded into itself as he stood on the concrete outside Pillars Recovery Detox Center in El Segundo. His face drooped with exhaustion and the corner of his lips were turned downwards. His clothes were just slightly too big for him, and draped over his frame, awkwardly.

Right at the exit of the center was a sign in bright yellow and blue that read “You Are Stronger Than You Think” beside a smiling face.

Today was his fourth first day out of rehab. His body was once again cleansed of all the alcohol and narcotics that he had ingested over the past few months. His mind was clearer than it had been when he had checked himself in, just as it had been every other time. He looked down at the yellow and blue sign with the same incredulity as he always did.

For the most part, the whole experience was like Déjà vu for Schneider. He had done this all before. And to that unknowing eye, it would seem like he would be doing it all again sometime soon.

But something was different this time.

He took a cab back home to his apartment building – the one he had owned for over a decade, now. Just the sight of it as the car turned the corner made him feel a little better. It was a safe place.

Of course, it wasn’t a safe place while he was using. When he was using it became his hiding spot from the world. It became his cover as he huddled up in his apartment, alone, curled around a bottle. It became a dark and depressing place when he used it to isolate himself and drink, or worse.

But Nick had already done the job of going through his things and clearing out all the booze and drugs. Pouring bottles down the sink and flushing little plastic baggies down the toilet. It didn’t seem fair that Nick, as an addict himself, had to do all that. But he knew all the best hiding places. He knew how Schneider thought.

But as owner of the building, Schneider had a few extra hiding spots up his sleeve. He secretly wondered if Nick had found the loose tile in the laundry room downstairs. Probably not, right?

He paid his cab fare and stared up at the building. After sobering up he was always happy to see this place, but this time there was another reason. One he almost couldn’t believe had actually happened.

While he was in the detox center, Mrs. Riera from 402 had come to visit him, chicken soup in hand. She had been living in his building for many years now but hadn’t paid any particular interest in him before. To be completely honest, neither her or her husband seemed to like Schneider very much. Neither had their daughter when he met her.

But despite all that: she had come for him. He thought he had been hallucinating at first. He didn’t even know that she knew he was an addict – and certainly had no idea how she found out which detox center he was staying at. But he didn’t question her as she kissed him on the forehead and told him “tomorrow, you will try again.”

The whole gesture was maternal in a way he had never really experienced before. It was more than his mother(s) had ever done for him. Far more than his father. She barely knew him, and yet she felt the need to come make sure he was alright. She came to tell him that he would do better – that he _could_ do better.

 And _that_ is what was different this time. Mrs. Riera was what made this stint in rehab different from the rest.

He went up to his own apartment, first. He laid his bag on his couch and looked around at the incredibly clean living room. It certainly hadn’t looked like this when he left. He texted Nick to let him know he had gotten home alright.

_N: “Glad to hear it. You need me to swing by? I can be there in 10 min.”_

_S: “No, you’re good. Gonna relax for a bit.”_

_N: “Ok. Call me if you need anything.”_

_N: “Seriously, call me.”_

Schneider grabbed a bottle of water and drank the whole thing, right in front of the fridge. He went to his room and changed into some fresh clothes.

For a long time, his life had been lonely. When he had first moved to America he quickly found lots of friends who all had the same interests as him: drinking. But those kinds of friends are only good for late nights out at clubs and bars. Once you turn sober, there isn’t much use in keeping in contact anymore.

He didn’t talk to his family at all. Every once in a while he’d get a phone call from his father, but they were always strictly business related. And the only time Schneider was the one to call was when he was high and needed help.

Life as a superintendent of the building meant he was always dealing with people – and he loved that part of the job. He tried to bond with his tenants as much as possible. He got to know them and what they needed and did his best to help them. But most of the tenants weren’t particularly open to his prying nature, and for the ones who were, even those relationships were tenuous at best.

So, days like these, when he was struggling to abstain from toxic influences, were particularly hard for him. It wasn’t much of a surprise when he relapsed again and again – at least not to him. He didn’t have anything, or anyone, to occupy his time. Every time he would get out of the detox center he returned to his apartment with few responsibilities, no real relationships, and a profusion of time.

But when Mrs. Riera came to his room at the center, it opened up a new door for him. No one had ever reached out to him like that before. He had no idea what she saw in him… but she clearly saw _something_. And that was… new, and exciting.

And yet there was this little voice in the back of his head telling him not to read too much into it. _She was just being nice. She’s a good catholic woman doing a good deed – it had nothing to do with you, personally._ Perhaps the voice was right, and she didn’t see anything in him except a poor man who couldn’t stop fucking his life up.

Either way, there was only one way to find out.

Schneider made his way downstairs and found himself staring at the number “402” on her door. At first, he was too nervous to actually knock. He started to worry that this was a bad idea, entirely.

Sure, getting sober was hard. Being alone was hard. But he had done it before – he could do it again. He didn’t _need_ the help. He didn’t need the distraction. And if he was to knock on the door, only to find out Mrs. Riera wanted nothing to do with him… that would be so much worse.

He had never been good about rejection.

Then again, it could be really good for him. It might just be exactly what he needed.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, he knocked.

Even though he probably shouldn’t have been, he was surprised when Mr. Riera was the one to open the door. Schneider may have stood several inches over the man, but there was no question who was more intimidating in this circumstance. “Oh, _hola_ , Mr. Riera,” he greeted him as normally as he could. He wasn’t sure he nailed it.

“Hello, Schneider.” Mr. Riera smiled slightly, and Schneider wondered if he, too, knew about his rehab. “How are you feeling?” So that was a yes.

“I’m, uh, I’m good. Yeah, thanks for askin’, _amigo_ ,” Schneider forced an awkward laugh.

“Good.” Mr. Riera raised his brow expectantly. “So, is there something I can help you with?”

“Right, right. Well, I was actually coming over to thank Mrs. Riera for, uh, some soup she brought me. While I was… away.” He hated every word as it came out of his mouth. He knew he sounded weird and awkward, and he just couldn’t help it. He had no idea what to say, or what not to say. Normally he wasn’t this type of guy – normally he was super outgoing and just a tad happy-go-lucky. That was who he _wanted_ to be. But this early into sobriety… it was hard to be the person he wanted to be. It was hard to be him.

“ _Si, por supuesto_ ,” Mr. Riera nodded, stepping back from the doorway. “ _Venga_ , Schneider. Come on in.”

He had been inside the Riera apartment many times throughout the years, but always for landlord-stuff. He’d try to hang around afterward, like he did to all of his tenants, but the Riera’s always seemed displeased about that, so he didn’t stay long. He wasn’t too offended – not everybody in the building always loved him. But they were polite, and they made _great_ coffee for him whenever he was there.

So, to be invited in when there was no leaky sink or chipped paint was… kind of nice, actually.

Mr. Riera closed the front door and shouted to his wife. “ _¡Mi vida_ , _el propietario está aquí!_ ”

A few seconds later, she shouted back, _“¿Aquí? ¡No estoy lista! ¿Dónde está mi pintalabios?_ ”

“ _¡No necesitas pintalabios! Es solo_ Schneider!”

“ _¡Una mujer siempre necesita pintalabios,_ Berto!”

Schneider didn’t understand a lick of Spanish, so he just waited patiently by the armchair, his hands at his sides.

Mr. Riera glanced back at him. “ _Lo siento_ , Schneider. She’ll be out in just a moment. She’s… in the middle of something.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to bother you two, I-“

“It’s not a bother. Please, take a seat. I’ll grab you some coffee.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so he sat down on the chair and waited for Mrs. Riera to finish up.

It didn’t take much longer for her to come out. She seemed pretty dressed up to just be hanging around the house: a long flowy skirt and blouse, and a full face of make-up. Although, if he really thought about it, she was always pretty done up when he saw her.

As she entered through the hallway, her husband left the kitchen with two coffees in hand. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as they headed toward Schneider.

“Schneider! How nice of you to come by.” Mrs. Riera took a seat on the couch right across from him. Mr. Riera handed him a coffee and gave the other to her before sitting beside her.

“Well, I, uh… I just wanted to thank you for the soup you brought me. And for, you know, coming to see me.”

“Oh, _de nada_. You should never underestimate the power of _cocina Cubana_. It will cleanse your soul better than any detox!”

“Okay, Lydia,” Mr. Riera chuckled, wrapping his arm around her. He turned to Schneider. “You were in there a couple days, right? So, this is how many days sober?”

“Uh, day four. But first day out of the center, so… it’s a hard one.” Again, Schneider forced a laugh, trying to take the edge off. Sobriety wasn’t exactly an easy subject.

Mr. Riera nodded. “The first day of many, I am sure.”

“That’s the plan, yeah.”

Mrs. Riera glanced over at her husband, and the two shared a look that made Schneider feel a little uneasy. This was about how long he usually ended up staying after fixing whatever needed to be fixed around here: just enough time for a little small talk, and then it’s time to go. Maybe he was right – the visit didn’t really mean anything. Things were going to be just as they were before.

She turned back to him, and he was certain she was going to make up some excuse to get him to leave. He could _feel_ it. “Well, Schneider, Berto and I were just about to take a walk at the park down the block.”

“Of course,” Schneider stood from the chair, clasping his hands together. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to delay you-“

Mr. and Mrs. Riera stood as well. “Would you like to join us?”

Schneider paused, his head tilted slightly to the side. “You… you want me to come with you?”

Mrs. Riera nodded. “Yes! It’s a beautiful day, and we would love some company.”

Both of them were smiling earnestly as they waited for him to answer. Schneider couldn’t help but feel a smile of his own creeping onto his face. “Uh, well, sure! I would… I would love to join you.”

“ _¡_ _Magnífico!_ ” Mrs. Riera exclaimed, and then looked him up and down. “And this is what you’re wearing?”

Schneider looked down at himself and then back at her. “Uh, yes?”

Mrs. Riera shrugged. “It will have to do.”

Mr. Riera rolled his eyes, laughing. “Don’t mind her. Come on, let’s go.”

The three of them were out for a couple hours, walking and talking. The two of them had so many stories from their time in Cuba, and from their journey coming to America. Schneider listened intensely, soaking in every word. Eventually he ended up talking about his own childhood a bit. He smoothed over a lot of it, but it was really nice to have someone to talk to.

Eventually they ended up back in the Riera apartment, where Mr. Riera promptly suggested a game of dominoes.

“That would be great!” Schneider happily agreed. “Although I’ve played dominoes maybe once or twice before, so you’ll probably win.”

“ _¡Ay, no te preocupes por eso!_ I was going to win, anyway.”

Mrs. Riera took her husbands hand in her own. “You _muchachos_ play. I will start preparing dinner.” She looked expectantly at Schneider. “You are staying for dinner, right?”

“Oh, uh… yeah, I’d love to!”

Mr. Riera did end up beating Schneider, and bad. But he didn’t mind at all. The two of them ended up having a lot to talk about. He couldn’t believe the Riera's had been living in his building for 10 years at this point, and he had never had a real conversation with them before.

Over dinner they both talked a lot about their daughter, _Lupita_ , and their grandchildren. They clearly missed having their family around, and Schneider could relate to that. Even if his family wasn’t all that great, they were still _family_ , and you still wanted them around. At least they had each other.

Once dinner was over, Mr. Riera insisted on cleaning up, and Schneider knew he had to leave. He didn’t want to – he had an amazing time with the two of them. He had barely thought about having a drink all day. But he had been there practically all day, and he didn't want to push it.

Mrs. Riera walked him out, making sure to tell him to come back anytime.

Schneider went to leave but paused in the doorway. He turned back to her, leaning heavily against the door frame as if he would topple over if left to stand up straight on his own two feet. "So, uh, Mrs. Riera. I've been in rehab, well, a few times now. I've got some experience with this sort of thing, you might say. But... I've been out of rehab a whole day, now, and... this has been the easiest day one I've ever had. It's not that I don't want a drink – because I pretty much always do – but… right in this moment, it doesn't seem _worth_ it. If that makes sense.”

She nodded, smiling gently.

“I'm sorry, I'm kind of rambling... what I mean to say is: it's really helped me to be here. To be with you and Mr. Riera. And... I would really like to hang out more, if that's alright with you." He held his breath as soon as the last words were out. It was nerve-wracking to just _leave it all out there_. To be totally honest with her. But he _was_ being honest. After spending the day with them, he felt… attached. He felt like he had really connected with them, especially Mrs. Riera. This was more than the usual relationship he had with his tenants. He felt like he could actually be _friends_ with them.

But only if they felt the same way. And that was really the hard part. In his experience, finding people to care about is easy. It’s finding people who care about _you_ that’s difficult.

"Oh, Schneider." Mrs. Riera reached her arms up for a hug, and Schneider leaned down to receive it. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her do the same. "You are _always_ welcome, here. _En cualquier momento_." She let him go but left her hand on his. “If you need us, our door is always open.”

Schneider smiled wide, barely able to hold tears back. “Thank you, Mrs. Riera.”

" _¡Me haces sonar vieja_ _!_ Please, call me Lydia."

Now he really was going to cry. "Thank you, _Lydia_."

When he left her apartment, instead of going back upstairs to his own, he went down. He went straight to the laundry room and found the loose tile he had been thinking about before. Like he figured, Nick hadn’t thought to check down here. There were still two little baggies of coke hidden away, just for him.

He shoved them into his pocket and went back to his apartment.

Once there, he went straight to the bathroom and took them back out. He held the bags in his palm, staring at them intently.

There were some days where all he could think about was the substance in his hands right now. And he figured there were going to be plenty of days like that ahead of him. There would be plenty of days where he wanted nothing more than to get high, or drunk, and pass out without a care in the world.

But right now, in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back down to 402 in the morning. And he couldn't do that if he still had this laying around.

He dropped the bags in the toilet bowl and flushed. It hurt to watch them swirl down the drain, but not that much.

When he had left the detox center earlier that day, he had a feeling that things were going to be different. He thought about the bright yellow sign that said, “You Are Stronger Than You Think.” Maybe it was right. Maybe he _was_ strong.

And maybe, just maybe, he was going to make it this time.


End file.
